


Like a Duck to Water

by galoots



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics)
Genre: Donald has a cloaca but it mostly functions like a vagina, Face-Sitting, Lots of Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Penetrative Sex, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sex Toys, also i finally reward donald for all the pain the world puts him through, and a burgeoning romantic relationship as a result, i can't believe I wrote 5k words of Donald getting his world rocked by a sexy southern dog man, so don't run away please, somewhat accurate species genitalia, uh idk, via multiple orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galoots/pseuds/galoots
Summary: After a busy week full of stress and worry, Donald gets a moment to relax. And, as he does so, Donald thinks back on a recent hook-up with a handsome stranger he happened upon through sheer circumstance.





	Like a Duck to Water

            Wispy curls of smoke, pale-grey and fine, billowed from the lit tip of a stick of incense. Donald took a deep breath—in through the nose and out through the mouth—letting the heady scent fill his chest. The tips of his fingers grazed the surface of the water, testing the temperature before he got in. Finding it warm enough to relax but cool enough not to scald, Donald eased himself into the tub.

            His week had been hectic with busy days followed by restless nights. All in all, a stressful bustle from one activity to the next, just like each week that came before it and each week that was sure to follow. It seemed like there was always work to be done: house repairs to make, recitals to attend, PTA meetings to lead, bosses to toil for at low-paying positions, and children to corral. Rarely, if ever, did Donald get a moment completely to himself, where he could unwind and really enjoy himself. But, with the weekend upon him, the children put to bed, and a completed to-do list, he could really take the time to luxuriate in solitude. Which is to say, finally, _finally,_ Donald could masturbate. What better way to destress? He was really going to pamper himself too, hence the ambiance he had carefully composed. With a new waterproof vibrator he’d splurged on and his old friend the bath faucet, the night was shaping up to be a good one.

            He positioned his hips under the running tap. Just a trickle to begin, to tease his sensitive cloacal opening as it began to swell with arousal. Donald shut his eyes as he enjoyed the tantalizing flow of water lap against him. His mind wandered and, once lost in his reverie, alighted upon the handsome dognose man he’d cozied up with not long ago. The one with the lazy, wide smile, who had made Donald’s webbed toes curl with pleasure. He had been Donald’s mechanic at the auto shop he frequented while his regular guy was on leave. Normally, Donald would wait, but, with ol’ 313 was on the fritz, he had to settle for someone unfamiliar.

            The day had been hot: the kind of sweltering heat that normally washed over Duckburg in the dog days of late august. The mechanic had emerged from the garage, wiping grease from his hands, tongue panting due to the heat. Stitched on the chest pocket of his blue coveralls, all streaked with motor oil, was his name, Luke.

            Luke had informed him the repair job would need a part to complete that they didn’t have in stock. Naturally, his car wouldn’t be fit to drive until then, and it’d have to stay in the garage in the meantime. His face must have broadcast his frustration, though, because the next thing he knew, Luke had proposed to buy him a drink after work. He kept calling him darlin’, a behavior he would normally find condescending, but, in Luke’s husky southern drawl, made him weak in the knees. Luke had charmed him into a local bar for a nightcap, then into his bed for a romp.

            While Donald wasn’t usually the type to bed a man he’d just met, Luke’s easygoing charisma had disarmed his normally prickly nature. In hindsight, he’d been glad he’d done so, for Luke took his night from good to great. Besides, the kids were still away at camp, and Donald didn’t have to worry about taking care of them for once. So why not treat himself? He certainly worked hard enough to deserve it.

            The nice thing about cross-species coupling, beyond the normal thrill of getting lucky, was mammalian men had the kind of anatomy most avian men lacked. More so, this particular man knew how to wield his tool, and not just in the garage. The two of them had stumbled home from the bar, tipsy than they had intended to get, and collapsed on Luke’s unmade bed. Despite the heat, the weight of Luke’s body on top of Donald’s own had been just the sensation he had wanted. Luke had nipped at the skin under Donald’s feathers while groping him roughly. He prepped him slowly, uncertain of how careful he needed to be with a species he was unfamiliar with. Donald had grabbed Luke by his collar, urging him to speed things up. That night he had not been interested in a lingering, sustained fuck. He’d wanted it fast, he’d wanted it hard, and he’d wanted it right there and then. The smell of Luke’s fur, leather—mixed with cheap cologne, had been an intoxicating aphrodisiac that had heightened each roll of the hips as Luke thrust into him.

            In the present, he adjusted the water pressure slowly as he dreamed about his encounter with Luke. He let the trickled turn into a steady stream against the lips of his cloaca. He imagined it was Luke’s tongue, lapping at him eagerly. Normally, he would dwell in that head space as he brought himself closer to finishing, but, in this case, the far juicier memories happened later on.

            After they’d come, Donald had lain in Luke’s arms, the two of them chatting idly about various topics while Luke had softly ruffled his feathers. They’d discovered they shared a number of things in common: Vintage cars, a shared hobby; a love of adventure stories, especially those set on the sea; napping, an activity they both wished they could engage in more. The more they had talked the more they discovered commonalities. The two of them had bemoaned the difficulties of putting one’s self out there, particularly difficult for a bachelor with kids that was nearing forty. For, as Donald learned, Luke was a parent just like him. His one-night stand had two of his own from a previous marriage that had terminated in an amicable divorce. Luke’s girls were just around the same age as Donald’s boys, or so he reckoned.

            Donald had been surprised to find that Luke remembered his boys from previous visits. He was a frequent customer, certainly, but Luke had no cause to remember anything about a customer he had no direct contact with. Triplets stood out, he supposed, as he had leisurely recalled, from visits prior, the feeling of Luke’s eyes on him—soft, but attentive. Luke had assumed them to be his sons due to the close resemblance; a fact that, while incorrect, greatly flattered Donald.

            The sex had been great, perhaps the best Donald had ever had, yet he found he had enjoyed their conversation even more. How long they had chatted he couldn’t say, but at some point, he had dozed off listening to the sound of Luke’s voice.

            When he had awoken the following morning, he’d been ready to slink out the door and start the long walk home. But, as he ambled sleepily through Luke’s apartment, he’d been astounded by the sound of his name calling him into the kitchen. With an air of diffidence, he’d walked towards the voice’s source. Luke, who wore an apron that read Kiss the Cook, had freshly brewed coffee in hand, and terribly burnt eggs at the ready. They watched an episode of some baking competition show while they supped. When they’d finished their meal, Donald had expected he’d soon be asked to leave, but Luke only pulled him closer and bade him to cuddle on the couch, an arm around his neck and a hand on his lower back. Luke had salivated over the desserts onscreen and commented how he wished he knew someone who could bake. Neither Luke, nor his ex-wife, it seemed, had been talented in the kitchen. Donald, his mouth always a step ahead of his head, had replied by offering to teach Luke to cook. He was, by no means a boast, a _fantastic_ chef.

            Luke had grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and gave his reply by way of a kiss. The kiss had turned to two, then three, followed by Luke drawing him into his lap. Donald forgot about his plans to flee. They had sex on right there on that couch; gently, slowly, indulgently. The way one might eat a morsel of honey just to savor the taste, or watch it drip languorously back into the jar. Donald had panted and moaned as Luke fucked him deliberately and agonizingly slow. Luke had edged him closer and closer to release, only to stop and let him come down before he could actually orgasm. Keening with delighted desperation, Donald had tried to bounce on Luke’s lap and fuck himself on Luke’s cock, but Luke staid his hips. From his position below Donald, Luke crooned a chorus of dirty talk at him the whole time. A patter of _fuck, you look amazing, darlin’_ and _I wish I could keep you like this forever, desperate to cum, clenched around my cock, moaning my name._

Increasing the pressure of the water a little more, Donald’s legs trembled from the dual pleasure of the tap’s flow and the remembrance of Luke’s filthy mouth. At the time, he’d been far too caught up in the moment to worry about how he must have looked to Luke. And now, he was surprised by the wanton behavior he’d displayed. Yet Luke had clearly enjoyed it, even taking pains to delay his own orgasm to watch Donald come undone above him.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity to Donald, Luke jerked his hips up as he came inside him, bringing Donald over the edge into a shuddering orgasm. Donald had sobbed loudly as several waves of pleasure cascaded through him, causing the neighbor of the adjoining suite to pound the wall in a futile attempt to quiet them. They’d ignored the annoyed thuds as they panted, trying to catch their breath. Donald had flopped, exhausted, onto Luke’s chest. Once they’d caught their breath, Luke had pulled slowly out of Donald. Semen had leaked out of him and unto Luke’s curly, brown fur, but the two of them were too blissed out to care.

Instead of dealing with the mess they’d made, the two of them fell asleep; too exhausted after fucking again to do anything else. When they finally awoke, they’d been sticky with dried semen as well as the muggy air of Luke’s apartment. Luke had proposed a shower, and Donald let him lead the way.

The water had absolutely drenched Luke’s fur which Donald thought made him look ridiculous. By contrast, the water merely rolled off Donald’s feathers in beads, and he looked the same wet as he had dry. Luke had commented on it, asking Donald how birds cleaned themselves if not with water. Even though the event prior had been much more shameless, Donald still felt sheepish about explaining the particulars of preening to Luke. He explained how ducks would spread oil from a gland at the base of their tails to coat their feathers until they sheened. Soap and water worked in a pinch, coupled with some vigorous scrubbing, necessary due to the fact their oil made them waterproof, but preening was an absolute must for a duck’s health. Luke asked if one simply used their hands, or if there was some sort of brush to groom themselves with, similar to ones dognoses used. With an under-the-breath murmur, Donald corrected him by indicating they used their beak to preen. Amazed by this fact, Luke tried to puzzle out how Donald could possibly reach his ass with his beak and concluded, like a horny bastard, that Donald must be _very very_ flexible.

Kindly, Donald informed him that his gland wasn’t located on his ass, and he’d appreciate it if Luke didn’t talk about his ass anyway. It was impolite. Luke let out a faux-scoff at Donald’s snark.

Anyway, Donald had added, he was one to talk. These _things,_ here Donald had tweaked one of Luke’s nipples, to make a point, looked goofy beyond all get out. And why were there so many anyway? Any nipples at all seemed ludicrous to him, but ten? That was simply excessive. Luke made a face, halfway between pain and pleasure, and warned Donald that those _things_ as he called them were sensitive. He’d better let up now before he wound up Luke for another round. With the innuendo, Donald let his eyes trail downwards to look at Luke’s flaccid penis hanging between his legs. It seemed to Donald that it must be rather inconvenient to have all that stuff just hanging out all the time. Plus, it looked silly flopping around. He was glad his own testes were located nicely inside him rather than bared for all the world to see. It would certainly make his normal pantless attire quite difficult to uphold. Just think of the money he’d have to spend on trousers if he were in Luke’s shoes.

His partner was scrubbing his fur with shampoo, getting a good lather going, and Donald thought he looked cute covered in bubbles like that. His eyes, however, were still fixed upon Luke’s cock, he realized, and he wondered idly about grabbing Luke’s cock, just to know what it feels like in his hand. This was the first time, perhaps the only time, he’d get an up-close look at the thing. It looked spongy. Donald wondered what it’d be like to suck on it but made no move to instigate anything.

Noticing the direction of his eyes, Luke asked about Donald’s own genitalia. It had disappeared, Luke said, like the world’s shittiest magic trick. Now he was a smooth as a ken doll down there. With a blush, Donald explained that it wasn’t gone, just hidden. When not aroused, his cloaca shrunk, becoming much smaller and capable of being hidden under a duck’s dense feathers. Not aroused, Luke laughed, puffing out his chest, sucking in his gut, and wiggling his lower half for Donald so that his dick bounced between his thighs. How could he not be aroused at this impressive physique? Donald laughed heartily at Luke’s goofy behavior, before moving to wrap his arms around Luke’s middle. He rested his chin on Luke’s stomach as Luke relaxed from his pose. Luke was a little chubby, which he seemed a tad self-conscious over. But Donald liked how Luke was built. Most of a duck’s mass came from their feathers, and they don’t accumulate fat like mammals do. He’d like to grab that fat and feel it in his hands, knead Luke’s ass, and feel his stomach especially. Luke’s stomach was especially alluring to Donald, and he briefly fantasized about rubbing his cloaca over it. How it would feel amazing to do so, like a cloacal kiss, but _better._

In the midst of his fantasy, Luke asked if he could see Donald’s cloaca up close. Like Donald, he was just as curious about the differences between their two species. Either that, or Luke really was a horny bastard. It was a big thing to ask, whether Luke realized it or not, but he winked at Donald saying it might be fun to ‘play doctor’ like a couple of schoolkids. Donald flushed and stammered but choked out his consent regardless of his nerves.

Luke sank to his knees and began to softly prob Donald’s underbelly for an opening. It took some searching to find, but Luke succeeded. Pulling his feathers aside, Luke exposed Donald’s cloaca, much to the duck’s erotically charged humiliation. It was cute, he remarked, not like a vagina like he expected, but similar. It was so small though! How could Donald possibly fit anything in that tiny little button hole? With a shaky breath, Donald mentioned that it swelled into a bigger opening when aroused. It felt strange to be that closely examined as it was something ducks only really experience once a year at their physical’s with _real_ doctors. But he would be lying to say it wasn’t doing something to him, to be looked at so attentively in a place so intimate.

A little whimper escaped Donald, and Luke looked up from in-between his legs with a heated, cocky gaze. It would be a shame, he softly remarked, to leave Donald unsatisfied like this. As long as he was down here, he could be persuaded to go a little further. All Donald could do was muster a weak nod, signaling Luke to keep going. With Donald’s permission, Luke gently stroked his date’s cloaca. The tip of Luke’s tongue stuck out from his mouth while he focused on his partner. He watched Donald slowly open up, and an idea suddenly came to him. He leaned forward and started to lick at Donald’s opening. Astonished, Donald let out a gasp of surprise; the sensation was entirely new as duck tongues were simply too short and their beaks too large to ever do something like this.

Luke’s tongue, though, was much bigger. He used the tip of his tongue to tease Donald at first, before flattening his tongue to lap at his cloaca. Little gasps and moans elicited from Donald’s throat, too excited about this new feeling to keep himself quiet. His legs started to quiver as Luke ate him out, and when his knees buckled, Luke grabbed his ass to support him, and let him sit directly on his face.

Donald wanted to look away but couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of Luke eating him out. He’d never seen anything like it. Save for a few scenes from some of Donald’s more adventurous porn searches. The reality, however, was so much better than anything Donald could imagine. Luke had a lazy, glazed look in his eye as he watched Donald react to his administrations. Watching his face contort into pleasure, Luke switched from long, sloppy licks to tongue fucking Donald. The feeling was unreal, Donald thought, as he clutched his beak closed to try and stop the pathetic, wounded noises he was making. Upon doing so, Luke went back to flat all-encompassing licks as he inserted a finger into Donald. He probed for something, but Donald wasn’t quite sure what he was doing until Luke hit a spot that made a jolt of pleasure shoot up his spine. He felt Luke smile against his crotch as he continued to make a come-hither motion with his fingers. Luke had clearly succeeded at his own little game, for Donald couldn’t stop himself from begging Luke to let him cum. Cries of _please, Luke, I’m so close, keep going, please, I need you, fuck me, I can’t wait any longer, please, please, please_ cascaded from his mouth. Luke continued to thrust his fingers at that same spot, sucking at every part of Donald he could get his mouth on. Donald’s orgasm hit him hard that his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slipped on the wet tile underneath his foot. Luckily, Luke caught him before he could get hurt and lowered him to the shower’s floor. Smiling at him, Luke licked Donald’s ejaculate from his jowls in an obscene manner. This man _did_ things to him, by god.

            Lapsing from the hold of his memory, Donald colored at how lewd he’d been. It had been easy, too easy, for Luke to bring him to his knees, almost embarrassingly so. Yet, even now, the humiliation hadn’t registered with him. Usually, a moment like this could kill Donald’s arousal in an instant. But this time around, his own debasement only served to drive him forward. With fumbling hands, he reached for his vibrator. He wouldn’t bother with lube since he was plenty wet already. Somehow, he’d managed to not only turn on his vibrator with his trembling hands, but seat it inside himself as well. His foot slipped from its position on the bathroom wall as he jolted with the added stimulus.  

            Thrusting the toy in and out of him, Donald imagined it was Luke fucking him. What if he called him? Right now, at this exact moment, his voice all huffy and out-of-breath. He bet Luke would come over before he’d have time to adequately break in his new toy. That’s how eager Luke would be to fuck him again. He’d throw open the bathroom door, grab Donald, position him over the tub’s rim and fuck him relentlessly. Rough and hasty, like the first night together. Not all gentle-like as it had been the following morning. Instead, it’d be all heat and hurry. Luke would slap his ass and tug on his tail, making Donald beg again, but this time he wouldn’t let him come. No, Luke would leave him wanting more, desperate for it like he had promised. When Donald got close, Luke would pull out, and though he’d plead for Luke’s cock, he wouldn’t get it. Or, better yet, he would, but not where he wanted it. Yeah, Luke would make him get down on his knees and suck him off like he had fantasized about, then tried to fulfill, when they had showered together.

            After Donald had recovered enough control over his legs again, he rose to his knees and leaned his cheek against Luke’s thigh in a manner he hoped was seductive. After that leg-trembling orgasm, the least Donald could do was return the favor. Caressing the inside of Luke’s thigh, he’d found, to his slight disappointment, that Luke was still soft.

            That was hot as shit, Luke had huskily intoned, but Donald still had him drained from earlier. Suddenly, Donald’s self-possessed confidence dissolved into a feeling of foolishness as he found himself positioned at crotch height with someone unprepared for round two.

            His gentleman caller, on the other hand, was unfazed. He dispelled the awkward charged air with a laugh as he swept Donald off the ground and into his arms. Unceremoniously, Luke plunked Donald down on the bathmat before proceeding to throw a towel over the duck’s head. The two of them dried off, and Luke had absentmindedly shaken himself dry, thus unintentionally soaking Donald anew. Donald didn’t get mad, however, just laughed good-naturedly at the hangdog look Luke shot him.

            The two of them emerged from the bathroom along with a burst of steam, and Donald shuddered to think what Luke’s water bill would be like this month. Luke led Donald by hand back to the bed, where he sprawled leisurely on the messy, unmade bedspread. He tugged Donald gently towards him, urging him to curl up next to him. Donald, however, had his mind on things besides cuddling; he was still buzzing with energy from their bathroom shenanigans, and Donald had decided to pursue a train of thought from earlier.

            So, as gracefully as he could, he swung one leg over Luke’s middle, so he was straddling the belly he had admired earlier. His gaze must have been heated, because Luke let out a throaty chuckled and asked him if all ducks were this feisty in bed, or if it was just him.

            Having learned his lesson from earlier, Donald gave one of Luke’s nipples a soft, but reproachful pinch. He talked to much, Donald surmised, and there was certainly another way he could occupy his mouth. Donald’s fingers crept their way into Luke’s mouth. Quickly, Luke caught on, and he started to suck on the digits in his mouth earnestly. In the meantime, Donald had started to rock back and forth on top of Luke. Little sighs slipped from his throat as he humped Luke’s belly. The nubs of Luke’s nipples added extra stimulus as Donald slid back and forth. It wasn’t enough to make him come, but it felt nice regardless, so Donald kept at it.

            Soon, he began to inch his way south towards Luke’s cock. After all, he shouldn’t be the only one to have fun, right? Luke was still soft, but Donald gently guided Luke’s still limp dick back inside him. This time they didn’t move much, since coming wasn’t their goal. Instead, Donald sat snugly around Luke’s cock, clenching and relaxing his pelvic muscles in a rhythmic fashion. It drew a peculiar whimpering warble from Luke who looked rather shocked and embarrassed when he realized he had made the noise. That had Donald smirking. Luke wasn’t the only one with tricks. Donald felt appropriately smug; guess those pilates classes were good for something _more_ than plain old exercise.

            They continued on like this until Luke got a stitch in his side and Donald realized he had to pee. They separated, attended to their needs, and reconvened at the bed.

            Perhaps they’d been a bit hasty when they had hopped in the shower, for they had barely dried off before making a new mess. Luke only shrugged at the fur Donald had soaked through as he threw on a t-shirt and jeans. It could be, Donald thought, that the same thought about the water bill had occurred to Luke as it had to Donald. However, Luke’s odd insistence that wiping off seminal fluid with a damp washcloth was simply ‘too much of a hassle,’ made Donald suspect that Luke rather liked it a little sloppy. Naughty dog, he thought as he smiled conspiratorially to himself.

            Clothed and (somewhat) clean, they emerged from Luke’s apartment and into the afternoon sun. They both squinted painfully as the rays hit their eyes, caught off guard by the day’s late hour. Luke had driven him home, saving Donald a long walk in the sweltering summer heat, and giving the two of them extra time to chat before they parted. Something they both seemed happy to postpone, given the fact they had lingered in Donald’s driveway for another solid half hour before either of them reached for the handle. Like a true gentleman, Luke even walked Donald to his door. They had exchanged a hug which seemed almost laughably chaste considering their activities prior. They plied each other with pleasantries before they finally parted for the night. Before Donald had finished unlocking his door, however, Luke had turned back towards him to mention the cooking lesson Donald had promised. It had caught him off guard that Luke had even remembered, and he nervously fumbled his keys, before he chocked back a maybe and disappeared into the safety of his home. By far, it had not been the smoothest move.

            In the present, however, Donald didn’t let the minor embarrassment distract him from his intensely mounting orgasm. His legs shook from the intensity of the water pounding on his cloaca and the memory of his encounter with Luke playing in his mind. He thought about Luke’s rough, calloused hands on his hips, the rasp of his voice still laced with sleep, the feeling of his fur on his thighs, the earnest and ardent look in Luke’s eyes when they fucked. His foot slipped from its position on the bathroom wall, shoving the toy deeper inside Donald as things came to a head. He cried Luke’s name as he came, splashing into the water as his hips finally gave from the strain of keeping his lower half aloft. The rushing of blood pulsed in his head. He huffed with exertion, sinking lower into the water and enjoying the daze of his post-orgasmic bliss.

            Eventually, he gathered his wits enough to realize how foolish it was to scream someone’s name while three impressionable, innocent young kids slumbered nearby. He prayed fervently that he hadn’t woken the boys. He shivered to think of the questions his inquisitive ducklings would no doubt ask. What was that sound? Did he have a wounded animal in there? Who was Luke? How come he looked like he just ran a marathon? And what on _earth_ was that weird-shaped thing in Unca Donald’s hand?

            A few tense seconds slipped by as Donald waited anxiously for the sound of three pairs of little webbed feet traversed hardwood floors, heralding the final stake in the corpse of his dignity. But as the minutes stretched on, he heard nothing to indicate his boys had awoken. Once he was in the clear, he heaved a sigh of relief, letting his clenched muscles relax.

            He emerged from the tub with still shakey legs. As he shook off any lingering droplets of water, he wondered if Luke was thinking of him, of the time they spent together, or Donald’s accidental promise to meet again. They exchanged numbers once Luke had driven him home, but they hadn’t talked since then. Briefly, he agonized over the thought that Luke never really intended to follow up with him, until he remembered that they’d have to see each other once again when his car was ready for pickup. Maybe, just maybe, Donald would be lucky for once in his life, and Luke would ask him out for another drink.

            He slunk back to his bedroom, ready to collapse into a sound sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. The glow of his phone screen briefly caught his eye before he thunked face-first into his awaiting mattress. Even though he was dog-tired, Donald decided to check it before turning in. Opening his phone, a notification for several new text messages greeted him. One from Scrooge: reminding him they had brunch plans Sunday morning. Another from Mickey: about a potential road trip to the Grand Canyon next summer. A third from Daisy: asking if he knew the whereabouts of some old keepsakes. And the rest?

            The rest were from Luke.

            Donald’s thumb wavered briefly before he nervously opened the incoming messages. They read:

_Hiya darlin’_

_I was thinking of you_

_actually haven’t been able to get you off my mind at all._

A warm, tingly feeling filled his chest; Donald pretended it was the lingering effects of his aquatic flirtations. He read onwards.

            _There’s a fair coming to town soon, kids get in free, and I thought maybe you and your boys would like to join me and my gals. If you want…_

_I mean… I’d really like it if you came. I’m real good at those fair games. I’ll win ya some giant stuffed animal._

_Bigger than you!_

_Anyway, let me know…_

Donald felt giddy as a schoolgirl as he read and re-read the messages Luke had sent. He quickly tapped a reply, and in his eagerness to respond, he failed catch that his phone had auto-corrected   _I’d love to_ to now read _I love you._ It was too late. Donald had already hit send, and all he could do was hastily backpedal with a follow-up message about his stupid mistake. He burned with mortification. Perhaps his bad luck had abated enough for Luke to follow up, but it would by no means let itself go unnoticed.

            Only, Luke texted back with a smiley face and a _I can’t wait to see you again,_ so Luke must have found the slip-up endearing. Silently, he thanked the universe for the daily plight he would normally curse it for. He never thought he’d be this grateful over a broken-down car.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally inspired by an actual ad from (what I presume to be the 40's or 50's) where Donald looks like he's masturbating with his tub faucet. (https://flic.kr/p/2gkx2yY and https://flic.kr/p/2gkx2zp you dirty birds.)   
> And if Donald's going to masturbate, I thought, then he'll need something to fantasize about, right? So I came up with Luke and slowly this piece spiraled out of control. I hadn't intended it, but the more I wrote, the more I became enamored with these two. And I eventually ended up with.. uh.. this?   
> I'm not sure what else to say besides, yup, this exists now because I brought it into existence. I dance upon Walt Disney's grave with glee as he sobs from the underworld.   
> Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it, and I hope my constant temporal changes didn't confuse you.   
> If people are interested, I may be persuaded to continue Luke and Donald's story. I like their dynamic, and I feel like it could go somewhere interesting.   
> If you actually read to the end of this note section... what 5k words of Donald getting fucked wasn't enough rambling for you? You're crazy, mate.


End file.
